If They Ask You To Stand Still,

And I Suddenly Think, As I Look Across The Table At Him, That These Are The Days As They Will Be. This Is The Future As We See It. The Swerve And The Static. The Confidence And The Doubt.

I Think It Is Our Job, As Writers, To Be Epic. Epic And Tiny At The Same Time. If You're Going To Be A Fiction Writer, Why Not Take On Something That Means Something. In Doing This, You Must Understand That Within That Epic Structure It Is The Tiny Story That Is Possibly More Important.

There Are Fewer And Fewer Jews In Ireland, But We Still Have One Of The Most Famous Jewish Characters In Literary History, Of Course, In Leopold Bloom.

One Of Those Out-of-the-ordinary Days That Made Sense Of The Slew Of Ordinary Days. New York Had A Way Of Doing That. Every Now And Then The City Shook Its Soul Out. It Assailed You With An Image, Or A Day, Or A Crime, Or A Terror, Or A Beauty So Difficult To Wrap Your Mind Around That You Had To Shake Your Head In Disbelief.

That Was The Sort Of Everyday Love I Had To Learn To Contend With: If You Grow Up With It, It's Hard To Think You'll Ever Match It. I Used To Think It Was Difficult For Children Of Folks Who Really Loved Each Other, Hard To Get Out From Under That Skin Because Sometimes It's Just So Comfortable You Don't Want To Have To Develop Your Own.